


The Whip Hand

by The_Whip_Hand_81



Category: British Actor RPF, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, Benedict is Sherlock, Dominatrix, Erotica, F/M, Fluff, Kink, Minor Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes, POV First Person, Photo prompt, Sex in clothes, Whipping, role-play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Whip_Hand_81/pseuds/The_Whip_Hand_81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a dominatrix nicknamed "The Woman" whose next client is Benedict Cumberbatch, coming to you to experience domineering for a new movie role. </p><p>Will Benedict submit to you or will the roles be reversed?</p><p>*It's a photo prompt fanfic! <br/>Thanks for reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Whip Hand

[](http://s90.photobucket.com/user/julie9481/media/bensher.jpg.html)

 

You are part time college student at Columbia University trying to finish your Master’s in Political Science. Paying for college on your own is never a problem due to your part time work as a dominatrix at Midtown Manhattan’s Grace’s Dungeon. Just one day’s work can bring on over $1,000 for you and you work only four days a week. A classmate introduced you to this profession several years ago when you first began Columbia and could barely pay for train fare. You decided since you were pretty good looking to give it a shot and you found that you enjoyed it. A normally shy, introverted woman, being in power of a man with various utensils of pleasure felt unbelievable. Gives you a high only sex can possibly offer. Though, it is strangely ironic how you work in the sex business and haven’t had it in years. It is difficult to hold down a boyfriend when you work as a Domme – they get freaked out or feel unworthy to a woman who makes loads more cash than they do. So, it hasn’t really come up again, the prospect of a boyfriend.

You’ve become a seasoned pro at SMBD and you are a pretty popular request amongst the wealthy businessmen that trample down the Dungeon’s doors. Some days the job can be hard having to punish overweight, balding moguls while they wear baby diapers – it’s a bit much. Once in a while you get a good client who isn’t too horrible to playfully torture. But sometimes…sometimes you wish a client would change every thing. 

And that ‘sometime’ was today. 

**

It is a beautifully warm and sunny spring evening when you arrive at the Dungeon. The business is located in a private building in between some thrift and dollar stores in Midtown Manhattan so no law enforcement can find it and put the heat on the place. It’s not a business of sex where penetration is allowed, it is a business of pleasure but the NY state law is funny on the terms of it so it is best to keep mum on the location.

You always arrive at the job dressed completely down: jogging pants, t-shirt, sneakers. It is when you’re inside the ladies makeup room that you “glamour up”. Sometimes the other girls help each other with makeup tips and hair/wigs so that is always super. The outfit always depends on what the client likes: does he request role-play as a nun? Does he want you to dress like the lunch lady from his elementary school? Does he only want you to wear a dog costume and chase him down like a cat? But, usually, if there are no specific requests for wardrobe, your default outfit is a black leather corset with matching mini shirt, black thigh high boots that laces to the top with long silk black gloves. 

Your Domme nickname is “The Woman” or “Irene Adler” dedicated to the character made famous by the Sherlock Holmes novels and, most recently, the BBC television show, “Sherlock”. You thought it appropriate. 

Today, Madame Grace tells you a special client is coming in at 8pm and has personally selected you to be his Domme. “Special client” means a celebrity of some sort: politician, musician, actor, etc. You sigh to yourself, a bit tired of those types of clients, as they can be quite ridiculous and demanding. But, what are you going to do? Money is money. And sometimes special clients tip heavily. 

Eight o’clock on the dot and you’re ready to shine. You always stand behind the door so that when the client walks in, he first gets a look over of the room and sex toys before you reveal yourself behind him as a surprise. 

The doorknob turns and the door slowly opens, stopping inches from your face. The anticipation excites you every time. You silently close the door and watch a thin tall man with wavy curls step into the room wearing a grey blazer and blue jeans.

You let out a sultry, “Hello.”

The man spins around to face you and you let out a frightened “OH!” 

Your special client is none other than Benedict Cumberbatch, the actor you so closely follow in movies and TV shows, specifically “Sherlock”. 

You freeze in place, eyes bulging from their sockets as Benedict smiles warmly and lends out his hand for you to shake, “Hello, I’m Benedict Cumberbatch.”

You are standing in a corset and thigh high boots – what the Hell are you suppose to do when your favorite actor shows up at your job? Then you remember, Benedict specifically chose you out of a catalogue of 25 other women. Holy shit.

You stammer uncontrollably, “Y-you’re…oh my God…” you cover your chest with your arms in embarrassment, “I’m so sorry. I’m not normally dressed like this. Well, not outside, this is my job…”

His hand still extended to you, “Please, don’t freak out. I’m just an ordinary bloke like all the others.” You nervously reach out to shake his hand.

“For one, you are NOT like the others. And two, you’re fuckin’ Benedict Cumberbatch! Sorry, my language. Just really excited.”

Ben’s laugh fills the room, his laugh lines by his eyes make your stomach do flip-flops, “Yes, I am him. And you are The Woman, I presume?”

Your face turns a shade of pink as you let the handshake go, “Uh, yeah.”

“Very clever. Are you a fan of ‘Sherlock’?”

“Hell, yes! I mean I was a fan prior to your show. The novels are excellent. The character of The Woman inspired me when I began working here,” you gush and continue to do so, “I know you hear this often but I am a huge fan of yours and this is really an honor to serve you. I mean, not ‘serve you’, I’m not giving you anything. I mean, your presence in my room is very appreciated and I’m going to stop talking now…”

Ben laughs again and clasps his hands behind his back, “Let me explain. I am actually here on business. I am in between filming series 4 of Sherlock – “

You squeal in excitement, “Sorry…my fangirl is showing,” you then noticed your busting bossoms, folding your arms over your chest to cover them, “among other things.”

“No worries. As I said, I am in between shooting series 4 and a film about the seedy underbelly of sex dungeons – not quite as nice as this one – but the more secret, illicit world of domineering. My role is that of a private investigator who is a hired by the wife of a murdered client in a dungeon. Blah, blah, blah. If I told you any more, I’d have to kill you,” he gives you a wink.

“Oh my gosh, that sounds amazing..it really does…but, why are you here?”

“Well, I wanted to do my own personal research on the world of domineering and its clients and workers. I thought it would be an experience to use in my acting. Plus, it should be fun,” he playfully wriggles his eyebrows up and down making your inner fangirl squeal inside your brain.

You coolly smile back at him and look at your boots, suddenly shy and not the woman you usually portray. “Uh, so…how would you like to do this, Mr. Cumberbatch?” 

Ben politely replies, “Oh, do call me Ben, please. And, however you perform for any one else would be lovely.”

You look around and grab a wooden chair from the corner of the room. You place it next to Ben and ask him to sit. He sits. You begin to pace back and forth in front of him while he watches your every move, studying your face, your gestures, and your walk. As you pace, you are racking your brain for courage to domineer Benedict Cumberbatch, this actor you have had a crush on for many years. 

Come on, girl, you encourage yourself, show him why you’re so popular around here. Give him a show!

You keep pacing and speak without making eye contact, “Ok, um, I may say and do somethings to you that you may or may not like…”

Ben nods his head acceptingly, very business like, “Of course. Do what you will to me.”

Those final words were all you needed to arouse you and get you into character. You whip out your riding crop that is concealed inside your thigh high boot and rest in on his left shoulder.

“I am The Woman and I will be torturing you this evening. Answer me this,” you walk closer to Ben, “Have you been a good boy or a bad boy?”

Ben’s blue-green eyes blink as he thought about it, “I’ve been pretty good – “ you slap the whip on his shoulder causing him to yelp in surprise.

“That’s not the answer I want to hear, Ben…I only play with bad boys…very bad boys,” your riding crop trails down to his groin area. He swallows hard.

“Then I’ve been very bad,” his forehead begins to glisten with sweat as you step behind his chair and place your gloved hands on his chest bringing your pushed up breasts on top of his head. You’re pressing your breasts into his curly waves of brown, hands roaming his chest. You can feel his heart beat through his shirt. 

You whisper into his ear, your red lips grazing the outer shell, “I’m going to make you beg for mercy by the end of our session.”

He clears his throat, nervously jokes, “That sounds promising – “

“Shut up!” you grab his dark wavy locks and pull his head back to face up at you, “You speak only when I ask you to. Is that clear?”

Ben’s eyes look at your fierce expression, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Woman.” 

You pat his moppish hair, “Good boy.” 

You walk in front of him again, riding crop across your chest, smile on your lips, “Now, Ben, since this is your first session, I’m going to be gentle with you. Stand up.”

He stands.

“Get on all fours.”

Like a compliant child, he gets down on his hands and knees and waits for the next command. You sit on the wooden chair and cross your stocking legs and hold out your right leg in front of his face. “Take my boot off.” 

Ben gives you a quizzical look but slowly unzips your long thigh high boot and pulls it off revealing a nicely pedicured foot beneath the black stocking.

You let out an evil laugh, “Now…kiss my foot and enjoy it.”

Ben takes your dainty foot in one hand and begins to place small kisses on your toes. You cannot believe this is happening. Benedict Cumberbatch is on his hands and knees kissing your foot—the roles should be reversed! He continues to spread light kisses on your toes and foot when he rises to his knees and trails the kisses up your ankle and up your knee.  
You panic, Why is he kissing passed my foot?!

You’re losing power. “ENOUGH!” you scream. It seems as if you woke him from a spell of some sort.

“Oh, my. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it that far…” he sheepishly smiles.

“You will pay for your insolence,” you whack the crop across Ben’s chest. He flinches. 

Suddenly, a knock at your door, you sigh and get up to open it. It’s Sherrie, your co-worker, she says there is a car waiting outside for Ben and that time is up.

Ben stands up and brushes his knees, “Ah, just when we were getting started.” You giggle as he extends his hand to you.

“Its been a pleasure, Ms. Adler, but I must go.” You shake hands once again.

“No, no, ALL the pleasure was mine…you were a wonderful client,” you walk him to the door as he steps out.

“Oh, I will be an even better one tomorrow.”

You didn’t expect to gasp so unexpectedly, “Tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’m afraid I will be making a few more visits with you in the coming weeks. That is, of course, you won’t tire of me,” his eyebrows slightly raised in question.

“What?! No way! Not at all! Yeah, come on back!” 

“Splendid. See you tomorrow evening then. Have a good night!” he waves before he walks down the dim lit velvet walled hallway. 

You close the door behind you and stand there dumbfounded. “He’s coming back tomorrow…. AAAAAHHHHHHH!” 

Fangirling has never felt so good. 

**

Ben has visited you three times a week for the last several weeks for his research. Some days he takes notes during sessions where he asks plenty of questions pertaining to the session that day, what horror stories you had with past clientele and your overall experience working at the Dungeon. Other days he just wants to have a regular  
Domme sessions where he is completely submissive to you. So far Ben has been up for anything: wearing a dog collar, crawling like a baby, being whipped with crop, paddled on the bum, etc. It is fun but you wish the sessions were longer and not so professional. You really want some time to get closer to one of England’s most valuable import.

**

Tonight, you were dressed in a red strapless cocktail dress with thigh high fishnet stockings and red pumps (think Betty Boop). Your hair is up as it has been these last few weeks. 

A knock on your door reminds you it’s Cumberbatch time as you scuttle behind the door as you always do. “Enter,” you say in a sultry voice.

The door opens and closes. You step out to reveal yourself and to your surprise, Ben is holding a bouquet of red roses and a shopping bag of what looks like food. A smile that brings on those precious creases on his cheeks, “Thought we could use a night off.”

Your heart flutters, “Aww, Beeeen!” You gently take the flowers from his hand and inhale them, “Oh my gosh, they’re beautiful.”

Ben brings the bag of food to the center of the room and pulls out a picnic blanket, whips it open sending the splayed blanket slowly falling down into place on the floor. You stand there smiling to the point where it hurt. You bend down to remove the food from the bag when he stops you, “No, please, allow me. You’re always working. Let me repay you with this small dinner.”

He sets down an array of foods: fruit salad, finger sandwiches, dumplings, cupcakes, a small quiche and a bottle of red wine. 

“You know, I’m not allowed to do anything in this room that has nothing to do with pleasuring clients,” you grimace.

Ben pours you a glass of wine and shoots you smile, “Who says food can’t bring pleasure?”

Boom Your ovaries explode.

He helps you sit down on the blanket and he sits beside you. He offers you a sandwich and you take one. He takes in a breath and exhales, “I want to thank you for all that you have done for me these past few weeks. I’ve learned so much about this business and what goes on. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You are looking down at your sandwich, picking at it and smiling, “Nah, it was nothing. It’s been fun…really.”

“There’s one thing though,” he says with a crinkled brow. 

“What’s that?”

“I never got your name.”

“The Woman.”

“Nope,” the ‘p’ pronounced with a pop, “that’s your stage name. I want to know your real name.”

You blush a bit and bashfully tell him your real full name. His eyes light up, “What a beautiful name. Just…rolls off the tongue.”

“Thank you. Not very unique though,” you swallow a few swigs of wine. 

“Would you prefer to be named something that sounds closer to a sandwich rather than a person like me?” he jokes nudging your arm with his.

You throw your head back with laughter. He stops laughing and says, “Tell me more about you.” 

“What do you want to know?” a bit taken aback by his request. 

“Anything…everything…” he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. He looks at your hair, “May I see your hair down?”

You reach up to take the pin from your hair and release your bun spilling long waves of hair cascading down your shoulders onto your cleavage. 

“My God…you’re absolutely breathtaking.”

Ben touches your hair by your face and pulls you face in for a kiss. His tongue pushes passed your lips and meets yours as a sigh releases in your throat. You inhale his scent, his cologne as you grab his face closer. 

Suddenly, he lets go, shocked, “I’m so sorry. My intentions were not to come in here and kiss you. I’m not a creep, you’re just such a beautiful person and I don’t know what came over me…” Ben rises from the floor, extremely flustered, “Please forgive me…I am so embarrassed.”

You stand up, “No, no, don’t be, Ben.”

Ben grabbed his jacket and headed to the door, “I – I don’t normally do research and fall for – I mean, I’ve had a lovely time with you but I’ve made an ass of myself. I must go. Thank you again, dear, really.”

“But, Ben!” out the door he goes.

That would be the last session you would have with Ben again.

**

Months have passed since you last had Benedict Cumberbatch in your room. That night when everything was going so right then went so wrong when you kissed and he freaked out, leaving. You were never mad at him; you suppose he had his reasons. Still, you will forever treasure those private days with Benedict. 

**

It was 9pm on a Friday night; your last client will be here any minute. You fix your red corset, red leather short shorts and black pumps and fishnet stockings. You pull on your silk red gloves and step behind the door, preparing for your client to knock.  
And like clockwork, there’s a knock.

“Enter,” you call out in a sexy voice. The voice that answers back is Sherrie, your co-worker.

“Sorry to bother you,” Sherrie shouts through the door, “but your client cancelled which is a good thing because there’s a cop here to speak with you.” 

“A COP?” you yelp.

Sherrie corrects herself, “Sorry, not a cop. He says he’s a detective though.”

“That’s not any better, Sherrie!” you start to panic.

“All right, well, I’m sending him in now,” Sherrie says.

You freeze in place, “Shit…what did I do? Did I steal something I wasn’t aware of?”

The doorknob turns and opens, it is a few inches from your face. You take in a shaky breath and step out from behind the door.

You stutter, “I’m sorry, Detective…”

The man standing in your room wearing a long black trench coat, a dark blue scarf around his neck, black slacks and a purple shirt. His hair is neatly ruffled in long brown waves, his leather gloved hands at his sides.  
You stopped breathing and gasped. It is Benedict Cumberbatch dressed as Sherlock Holmes in all his glory! Ben stares at you, chin held high, eyes piercing into you. You wanted to scream with delight; totally fangirl out but you keep your cool and just laugh.

“BEN! You’re back!” you step closer with your arms open for a hug. He steps back with disdain.

“Hold on, whom is back?” he asks with an arched brow.

“You are!” 

“I assure you I do not know who this ‘Ben’ fellow is but I am Sherlock Holmes. I had a feeling I would find you here, Ms. Adler.”

You couldn’t hold it in any longer and squealed like a little girl, “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD – this is so fuckin’ awesome!” 

Ben kept in character, completely stoic, “Excuse me, I hardly think it appropriate the way you’re acting…I see your manner in language hasn’t changed much.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask with a big smile.

“First, you need to wipe that smile off your face. You are in big trouble,” Sherlock walks around the room, examining several sex toys and not a clue as to what they’re for. 

Giddy in your shoes, you try to play along, “What did I do?”

He comes to a stop in front of your body, face looking down at you, his voice low, “You have something I want.”

Your eyes sparkle as you gaze into his blue eyes, “And what might that be?” you quickly look down at his shirt and burst out in a fit of giggles, “OH MY GOD! YOU’RE WEARING THE PURPLE SHIRT OF SEX!” 

Ben whispers, “Stay in character, girl.”

“Oh, right. Sorry!” you clear your throat.

Sherlock continues looking down at you, “Moriarty has hired a network of assassins to kill several prominent members of the United Nations and I need to know whom these contract killers are before it’s too late.”

You spin around, your back facing him now; you play coy just as Irene Adler would.  
“And why should I tell you, the world’s only consulting detective? Can’t you figure it out for yourself? Brainy is the new sexy…” you smile as you cheer yourself on inside your head.  
You feel Sherlock’s chest against your back, “It will be unwise to play head games.” 

“Oh? What ever will you do if I don’t give you this information? Arrest me?” you snort when you suddenly feel a cloth wrapping around both your wrists behind your back.

Sherlock spins you around to him and glares down at you, “Torture you.” 

He swiftly lifts you off the ground and places your butt on the examining table that is used for doctor/nurse play. 

He spreads your knees apart and wraps your legs around his slim waist; your knees can feel the silky inner fabric of his coat. Your head is spinning. With your hands still behind your back in his scarf, Sherlock tugs your hair to pull back your head. You gasp as he slithers his long tongue from your collarbone to your ear and growls. 

“I can make this very hard for you, Ms. Adler.” 

You breathe out, “Do what you must, Mr. Holmes…I’m not talking.”

Sherlock touches your chin with his gloved hand and runs his thumb over your bottom lip. You snap at his thumb, sucking his thumb into your mouth hard. He grins as you bite the end of the thumb and pull off his glove with your teeth.

Sherlock smiles and pulls your head in for a kiss but stops short simply grazing your lips with his Cupid’s bow mouth. You sigh in disappointment. Without warning, his other gloved hand is in between your thighs, it grazes the outside of your short shorts and you’re not wearing panties tonight. 

He speaks, crudely, “Even through your shorts I can feel the heat from your cunt.” 

You open your mouth in sexual agony, “Please, Mr. Holmes…”

“Please, what?”

“Why don’t you make some deductions on what I really want?” you pant. 

Sherlock stares you up and down your horny and writhing body once then begin his classic speedy deduction of seduction.

“The leather fabric around your breasts seems to have tightened telling me your nipples are engorged. Your breathing pattern keeps hitching indicating anticipation of something to come. Your pupils are fully dilated and the warmth of your cunt reveals the excessive amount of vaginal lubrication and fluctuations of hormones and …” he leans into your ear to finish, “…I took your pulse.”

You just about lost your mind and broke free of the blue scarf behind you and wrapped your free arms around Sherlock’s/Ben’s neck. You smash your mouth onto his and practically stick your tongue down his throat. He moans in approval as he shimmies his coat off his shoulders but you pull it back up, “Leave it on.” 

Ben/Sherlock unbuckles his trousers and pulls out his stiff cock, pre-cum dripping onto your thighs.

You plead, “Fuck me, Sherlock Holmes!” 

He pulls off your leather shorts and plunges his thick hot cock into your slippery tight hole. It’s been so long since you’ve had sex, you were incredibly tight and it was a bit painful, but totally worth it. 

Ben speaks, “God…you feel so good…shit. Ah,” he grunts as he pumps in and out, “Fuck.”

He is now slamming you into the table; sweat dripping down his face and curls and onto your chest. He is still in full Sherlock garb and you love every minute of it.

“Oh, God…Ben…I’m gonna cum…ah….aaah!” you scream holding onto his neck.

“Cum for me,” he says your name, clenching your vagina more, getting ready to explode.

“Oh!” velvet fluid releases onto Ben’s cock, you can feel he is not too far behind.

He pants your name as he brings you in for a kiss, he kindly asks, “Can I cum inside you?” 

You think twice – you don’t want your first sex in years to come out with any babies so you say, “Cum on me…please.” 

“As you wish,” you quickly hop off the table as he’s about to blow. You kneel down in front of him as he shoots his cum onto your chest and corset, grunting loudly. 

**

You and Ben are snuggled on the doctor’s table, his legs dangling off the end due to his long legs. You head resting on his purple shirt now matted to his chest with sweat. The smell of sex still lingers in the air. 

You finally speak, “Ben?”

He interrupts you, “I want to apologize for the way I acted a few months ago, just leaving you here without explanation.”

“You really don’t have to explain..”

“No, I need to. It has been haunting me that I never told you,” he continues, “we had spent so many days together, I wanted to get to know you so badly, then these feelings started taking over. I knew I was falling for you and I didn’t want to hurt you…I am rubbish at explaining myself. Any way, I knew you liked the show and thought I’d make up for the disaster I created by coming back dressed as Sherlock. Were you surprised?”

“Of course I was!” you hoist yourself up to his face and place a kiss on his cheekbone.

“Besides, we never actually got a chance to role-play before…that was a bit fun. And the sex was okay, too,” he jokes.

“Yes, it was…if you ever come back to see me, we can totally role-play again,” you kiss the birthmark on his neck.

“That would be marvelous. And next time you can be Watson!” he exclaims.

“Huh?!” you look up at his face.

He returns your look, “What? Isn’t that what you fangirls do? Ship Sherlock and John?”

“Not this fangirl,” you playfully roll your eyes. You both have a laugh and plan for the next time when the lovely Mr. Benedict Cumberbatch will visit you outside of work for a real proper date.


End file.
